


Kings and Commanders

by Danruu



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Spanking, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danruu/pseuds/Danruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kmeme prompt: King Alistair puts the Commander back in his place. Mild violence. A little bit smutty. Now with a second chapter of pure smut... spanking/bondage/light d/s ahead!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kmeme prompt wanting hardened King Alistair putting Cullen in his place after an awkward meeting. Cullen reacts favourably, then they get each other off in the War Room. Simple right? 
> 
> Small amounts of violence, smut, and the usual. 
> 
> I miss unhardened Alistair now xD

King Alistair was not what Cullen had expected. When he had shown up at Skyhold, unannounced save a poor messenger sent a mere hour ahead of the entourage, Cullen had expected him to be more... friendly. And certainly a lot less regal.

 

The tales that Leliana had told them of Alistair all seemed to revolve around a kind-hearted young man who made stupid jokes but was a competent fighter, and who happened to be the bastard son of King Maric so was made King at the end of the Blight. It seemed that ten years had changed the man, and even Leliana commented on how he carried himself now, though never within earshot of the man himself.

 

There was an urgent political situation between Ferelden and Orlais that apparently only the Inquisition could help with, and with the Inquisitor away elsewhere it was up to the advisors to step in to offer their thoughts. Cullen hated politics at the best of times, and now he was trapped in the War Room discussing nothing but politics. How many hours had it been since they’d started? He was suppressing yawns at every turn and trying not to roll his eyes too obviously.

 

He had to admit, having a King here made him nervous, even if Alistair was a friend of Leliana’s. All it would take was one bad decision and it would be Cullen’s men who paid the price for it. For the most part he let the other three talk, only cutting in to give his opinion, because being nervous would not stop him making his view clear. He was Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and he wouldn’t be intimidated. Especially not when the King of Ferelden was here to ask for a favour. Cullen was courteous as he always was, but bluntly so.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Cullen ignored the glare he received from Leliana and the wide-eyed panic from Josephine as he interrupted Alistair for the third time in so many hours. “We are not sending Inquisition forces into Orlais under a Ferelden banner. We are a neutral party, and Empress Celene is our ally.”

 

He felt the King’s eyes on him, and if looks could kill he was fairly sure he’d be six feet under already. But Cullen stood his ground. “That is my final word on the matter. If there is nothing else, I need to see to the Inquisitor’s scout reports.” Cullen rarely walked out of meetings, but this one was going in circles. He knew he’d have to apologise to Josephine and Leliana later, but now he was determined to leave.

 

He gave a small bow to the King, etiquette not entirely forgotten, then headed out of the War Room to do something, anything, else for a while.

 

*

 

Cullen didn’t think much on King Alistair again, as it happened he did have a lot of work to get through when he returned to his office, and by the time he’d finally reached the end of his stack of papers the sun was long gone and he’d had to light the lamps in the gloom. He was considering climbing the ladder to bed, when the door suddenly opened and he jumped.

 

“King Alistair!” He got to his feet, heart racing from the unexpected intrusion. What on earth was the King doing here? Had he got lost? Unlikely, given the entourage that accompanied him at all times, and by the way the man closed the door behind him.

 

“Remind me, Commander.” Alistair began, taking a couple of casual steps forward. “Where are you from?”

 

Cullen frowned a little. “Honnleath. In Ferelden.”

 

“And do you still consider yourself Ferelden?” Alistair took another step towards him, looking very intently at Cullen now.  

 

“Of course. Ferelden was my home.” Cullen was fairly sure he knew where this was going, but he didn’t back down or take a step back. This was not Ferelden; Alistair couldn’t have him arrested here, not unless he wanted another political situation on his hands.

 

Alistair was so close now, and Cullen was reminded of how close they were in age, barely a year between them if that. And Alistair was definitely as handsome as the stories said. Not that it did much for his personality. “So if you’re Ferelden, that would make me your King wouldn’t it?”

 

Cullen gave him a steely look. “Yes.” He knew he shouldn’t provoke him, but honestly there was something a little thrilling to have the King of Ferelden stood in his office attempting to chastise him. He almost wanted to see how far he could push. His sister would have a heart attack if she knew, and he almost smiled at the thought.

 

The slap was unexpected, a sharp backhand to the face that left Cullen wide-eyed with surprise. He brought a hand up to his cheek, already red and hot to the touch. No one had struck him like that since he’d been a recruit in the Templars, it was a clear demonstration of authority that stirred a side of him he thought he’d long since left behind.

 

When Alistair stepped forward again Cullen fell back a little, but he didn’t get far before Alistair’s hand was in his hair, gripping tightly enough to make Cullen yelp. “Yes _what?”_ He practically snarled, pulling Cullen’s head back.

 

“Yes... your _Majesty.”_ Cullen said through gritted teeth, glaring pointedly at Alistair. He wasn’t some grovelling subject, and although he was hardly in a position to do so, he wanted to remind the King of that.

 

Alistair growled, a noise that sent a strange little jolt through Cullen, and only tightened his grip on the Commander’s hair as he pushed him down. Cullen was surprised at the sheer strength of the man, but despite his new occupation Alistair was still a Warden, a warrior, and he clearly hadn’t given up that side of him in favour of the life of luxury. Cullen could respect that, even if he was now on the receiving it. Maybe _especially_ because he was now on the receiving end of it.

 

“You should kneel in front of your King, Commander.” Alistair said, and Cullen swallowed a whimper as his legs finally buckled to save his hair from being pulled right out of his head. Maker he should not be getting turned on by this, but there was a familiar heat pooling in his stomach and trickling down.

 

“Much better.” Alistair didn’t let go of his hair, and Cullen opted to stare at the floor rather than at the King’s crotch, or worse, at his face. “You were very rude to me in the War Room, Cullen. I expect better from my subjects.” Cullen bit his lip to try and stop himself getting hard, but it was a losing battle. “Apologise.” Alistair was suddenly moving down onto one knee, so close.

 

Cullen took a moment, feeling Alistair’s hand twitch against his scalp before speaking. “I’m sorry your Majesty. It won’t happen again.” He looked up straight into Alistair’s eyes, and for a moment they both froze. Cullen knew what he must look like, his cheeks were flushed, pupils blown with lust, and his heart was hammering in his chest.

 

After a long silence, Alistair relented. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” He let go of Cullen’s hair and got to his feet. “Good night Commander, I’ll see you tomorrow in the War Room to conclude our business.”

 

Cullen stayed where he was, knelt on the stone floor. Only once the door to his office was closed behind the King’s retreating figure did he move, pushing down his breeches and stroking himself furiously until he came with a strangled cry. Oh Maker. This couldn’t be good.

 

*

 

The next morning Cullen seriously considered telling everyone he was sick and retreating to his bed for the rest of the day. It had to be better than facing King Alistair again. He had completely lost control of his senses the minute the man had grabbed his hair, and he didn’t think the King had _lovers_ who’d looked at him like that before. It was more than a little embarrassing

 

But Cullen couldn’t do it. He still had some shreds of pride left after all, and he couldn’t let Alistair think he’d won completely. He was still a Commander of an army, and they still had to agree on what was to be done with Ferelden and Orlais. He couldn’t miss it. Not if he wanted to avoid Leliana’s wrath and Josephine’s disappointment.

 

He arrived at the War Room just in time; mercifully it meant he wouldn’t be alone with the King, whose eyes he avoided. For most of the meeting he was silent, pleased to find out that in fact they had decided to hold an informal soiree with Celene and Alistair, and hopefully smooth out any issues without having to resort to threats. Cullen noted that this had been decided after his dramatic exit from the War Room the day before, but Alistair had still deemed it appropriate to visit his room...

 

No. Best he didn’t think about that at all. Leliana would know about it within seconds if he did, she was terrifying like that.

 

 The meeting ended, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could go back to his office and not worry about the King again...

 

“Commander Cullen, could I have a word? In private?”

 

He couldn’t say no, he knew he couldn’t. Cullen gave Josephine a reassuring smile as she shot him a quizzical look. Later on he’d tell her he’d cleared the air with the King and there was nothing to worry about. He hoped.

 

The heavy doors of the War Room closed, and he was alone with Alistair again. Cullen wasn’t sure where to look. “About last night...” He began, fully intending to apologise for acting like a lusty teenager, but he couldn’t finish the sentence as suddenly Alistair’s mouth was on his, kissing him as fiercely as he’d grabbed his hair yesterday.

 

Cullen was surprised, but only for a moment before he moaned against the King’s mouth and returned the kiss with enthusiasm. He felt himself being pressed back into the war table, then turned sharply so it was Alistair leaning against it.

 

It may have been a while since his last tryst with a man, but Cullen was more than familiar with what was expected of him, and as soon as Alistair released his mouth he dropped to his knees to tug at the laces on the other man’s trousers. The King made an encouraging sound, and Cullen wasted no time mouthing at the still-clothed cock.

 

“I wanted to do this all night...” Alistair mumbled above him, and Cullen couldn’t help but smirk. The Kingly mask had slipped, and for the first time he was seeing a little of the man Leliana had told them about. But when that hand gripped his hair again Cullen could only moan and take Alistair’s cock into his mouth with one smooth motion.

 

Maker, if his sister could see him now she really would have a heart attack. On his knees sucking the King of Ferelden’s cock with all the enthusiasm of a professional. Every time Alistair’s hand tightened in his hair he moaned around him, and it didn’t take long before the King was panting like a mabari. One more skilful press of his tongue against the underside of the cock in his mouth and Alistair was coming with a shudder into his mouth.

 

Cullen waited until the other man had stilled before pulling back, his lips red and swollen. He stood up, fully expecting that to be the end of it. “Oh no you don’t...” Alistair said with a grin, pulling him close for another searing kiss, made all the more obscene by the taste of the King in Cullen’s mouth. “A good King must serve his subjects too.” He said, another mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pulled down the front of Cullen’s breeches to get to his cock.

 

“You’re much easier to like when you’re like this.” Cullen managed to say between gasps as Alistair stroked him firmly. That earned him a chuckle and a bite to his neck.

 

“You’ve got to earn it.” Alistair said into his ear, and Cullen had to clutch the edge of the war table to stop his legs giving way again. Despite having only brought himself off the night before he didn’t have a hope of lasting long. He felt like a teenager again in the best way as he came with a moan, cut off by Alistair’s mouth claiming his.

 

They broke away, and Alistair pulled out a handkerchief to wipe Cullen’s come from his hand with a satisfied grin on his face. “Well. I suppose I’ll be seeing you again soon at this gathering Lady Montilyet has planned.” Back to business, as if nothing had happened. Cullen could handle that, even if he knew he’d be touching himself to memories of today for a long time.

 

“I would hope so.” Cullen replied, a little more enthusiastically than he intended.

 

Alistair looked a little smug, pocketing his handkerchief and rearranging his clothes. “I look forward to it. Until next time Commander.”

 

“Travel well... your Majesty.” They shared another smile, then Alistair was strolling out of the War Room and Cullen was wondering what in Thedas had just happened.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo porn porn porn. 
> 
> That's pretty much all this is. 
> 
> Bondage, spanking, d/s undertones ahead.

If someone had told Cullen two weeks ago that he would be tied to a bed in an Orlesian palace while being spanked the King of Ferelden, he would have laughed and then told them to shove their stupid joke up their arse. Yet here he was. Funny how things worked out sometimes.

 

The proposed meeting to reforge the alliance between Orlais and Ferelden came together more smoothly than anyone expected, mostly thanks to Josephine’s careful planning and her very special skills in diplomacy. There was to be a formal meeting in the morning, a modest lunch with some members of the Council of Heralds, and then a dignified soiree in the evening arranged by the Empress’ Ladies-in-Waiting. It was Cullen’s own personal Void.

 

By some miracle, called Leliana, Cullen had been called out to inspect troops with the General of the Orlesian army instead of having to sit through treaty writing and lunches, and he was only required to attend the Ball in the evening. He could handle that, just about. Put on some uncomfortable clothes, stand in the corner of the room, and let nobles prod him for an evening. Easy.

 

Easy until he remembered exactly who would be attending that ball anyway. He still jerked off thinking about his last encounter with King Alistair, and when he saw the other man again he felt the colour rise in his cheeks before he could stop it.

 

He tried to avoid him, hanging around in corners, diving onto balconies when Alistair and his entourage got too close. It would probably earn him a scolding from Josephine, but he knew that if he stood too close to Alistair everyone in the room would know that something had happened between them, his face would say it all.

 

It was a blessed relief when the ball came to an end, his dignity and the King’s secrets still safe. Cullen had been heading back to his room, minding his own business as he walked the guest wing corridor when a rough hand grabbed his upper arm and pulled him sharply through a door, pressing him close. Cullen was about to react with force until he heard who it was.

 

“You were going to attend this little party and not greet your King at all? Come now Commander I thought you’d learned your lesson about rudeness back at Skyhold?” Alistair’s voice was low and sent a shiver through Cullen’s spine. It seemed they were in the King’s bedroom, judging by the bed, the open trunk, and the abandoned finery draped over a white and gold chair.

 

“I’m sorry... your Majesty.” Cullen felt Alistair chuckle in his ear and he was sure he was dreaming right now. The squeeze on his arm sent a rush of heat through him and he could already feel his pulse quickening.

 

“I’m not sure I can forgive you yet.” Alistair pushed him towards the bed and Cullen went willingly, letting himself be turned and sat down on the soft mattress. He looked up at Alistair, dressed in a loose white shirt and pale tan breeches, and tried not to smile too much. Alistair seemed to be struggling with the same thing, though he was better at covering it as he raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Strip.”

 

He stepped back to watch, looking nonchalant as Cullen sat on his bed pulling off his boots, fiddling with the fancy buckles of his formal attire. Maker he’d never hated the damn thing as much as he did right now. He was sure Alistair was smirking at him as he cursed under his breath, but the King offered no help, he simply watched, which only made Cullen’s cheeks flush more.

 

Finally his clothes were off him, and Cullen looked at Alistair, who smiled approvingly. The King turned, picking up a long length of velvet rope from the dresser, approaching Cullen slowly. Cullen’s eyes flicked from the rope to Alistair’s face. “My Lord?” He was fairly certain he knew what was being asked of him, and he didn’t need to hear it. He held his wrists out to Alistair, earning him a genuine smile.

 

“Good boy. Maybe your punishment won’t be so bad now.” Alistair tied his wrists together, tight but comfortable, leaving a long length of rope. He knelt on the bed and tugged and Cullen followed, letting the King arrange him so he was laid on his back, wrists crossed and arms tied to the head of the elaborate bed. Cullen knew he was red in the face now, exposed and vulnerable in front another man like this, and he was actually a little grateful when Alistair suddenly turned him onto his front, the rope twisting.

 

“It seems that my last attempt to teach you some manners has been forgotten Commander.” Alistair said as he pulled Cullen up he was on his knees, face still pressed into a pillow. “That means you have to be punished. Just a little.” The first smack to his rear made Cullen gasp, his whole body twitching, and Alistair hummed in approval.

 

Another smack and Cullen whined. This was better than his fantasies had been, being tied to the King’s bed while he spanked him? Cullen didn’t think he could think of anything better in that moment. Alistair kept up a steady pace, alternating between cheeks as Cullen moaned and squirmed and half-sobbed into the pillow. His cock was rock hard and already leaking onto the expensive silk sheets, but Alistair didn’t seem to care about that. It was probably a bonus really, another way to stick it to the Orlesians by having two Ferelden men get their fancy sheets nice and dirty.

 

It was starting to get too much, the sting was intense and Cullen could feel his legs shaking. Alistair paused; admiring his handiwork, the bright red skin of Cullen’s arse was practically glowing and radiating heat. The feel of Alistair’s cool fingertips against his abused flesh and the murmurered “Beautiful” made Cullen whimper.

 

“Now, say you’re sorry. Do it well enough and maybe we can move on from your little transgression.” Alistair was moving behind him, and Cullen heard a cork stopper pop behind him, though he couldn’t see what it was.

 

“I’m sorry your Majesty, I’m so...” Cullen gasped suddenly as he felt Alistair’s slick fingers teasing at his hole, the light brush of his burning skin enough to send an electric shock through him. “I’m sorry I ignored you, I just didn’t want to embarrass you...”

 

A finger pushed inside him and stilled. “Embarrass me?” Alistair’s voice behind him sounded confused, and Cullen could almost see the expression on his face. “How would you have embarrassed me?”

 

The finger twisted inside him and Cullen groaned before continuing. “I wouldn’t have been able to look at you without... without everyone knowing that we’d been... together.” That earned him another finger, and a rough few thrusts of them that made him push back desperately.

 

“Maybe I wanted them to know, Commander.” Alistair replied curtly. It sounded like his control was starting to fray at the sight before him. “Maybe I wanted everyone to know that the King of Ferelden has made the Commander of the Inquisition his.” Another sharp thrust of his fingers, scissoring Cullen open.

 

“I’m sorry...” Cullen could only say, trying to fuck himself on Alistair’s fingers. That earned him a growl and a hard squeeze of his arse that made him yelp in surprise at the sting. Then Alistair’s fingers were gone and Cullen moaned at the loss.

 

He turned his head to the side as he felt Alistair get off the bed, and he watched as the King stripped his clothes. His cock was hard and sprang free from his breeches, drawing Cullen’s eyes to it immediately. Alistair noticed, and smiled. “Turn back over.” He commanded, a little gentler this time as he opened the bottle of slick again, this time for his cock.

 

Cullen did as he was told, rolling onto his back with only a small wince as his stinging arse came to rest against the silk. His wrists were throbbing slightly, but as Alistair checked them he seemed content that they weren’t doing any damage, and he smiled again. “Knees up to your chest, open for me.”

 

It occurred to Cullen how good this felt, having someone tell him what to do. He could follow directions; he’d always been a good soldier like that. Alistair seemed to recognise it, and Cullen couldn’t help but feel pride welling up inside him as the King called him a good boy again.

 

“Beautiful. If I had my way you’d be commanding my armies. Then I’d take you to my bed every night.” Alistair almost sounded playful, caught between playing the King, and the man who was the same age as Cullen just wanting to enjoy being with someone. Cullen could empathise.

 

Alistair climbed between his legs, putting one over his shoulder as he lined himself up. He pushed in painfully slow, making Cullen pant like a mabari in heat, unable to move to force the other man to go any faster. He pulled futilely at the bonds around his wrists, whining desperately. Alistair was watching his face intently, and when he finally bottomed out he leaned down to kiss him hard. For a moment he didn’t move, just enjoyed Cullen’s mouth as the Commander hummed into him.

 

Pulling back he smiled smugly. “Tell me what you want.”

 

“You. Please... Please fuck me...”

 

“Please fuck me, what?” Alistair prompted, rolling his hips just once, but hard enough to shift Cullen an inch up the bed, making him arch his back and moan.

 

“Your Majesty! Please, your Majesty.” Cullen practically wailed in relief as Alistair finally relented, driving into the Commander with hard, near-frantic thrusts. One hand clutched Cullen’s raised thigh, the other gripped his hip to keep him still as he fucked him. Cullen was moaning loud, not caring who might hear them, just lost in how much he’d needed this.

 

It felt like they were going for hours, Alistair would slow down, then speed up again, then still his hips completely simply to kiss Cullen some more before starting again, building a rhythm only to break it. Cullen was practically sobbing, drenched in sweat, his stomach sticky with precome. On the third build up, he couldn’t hold himself together any more, and he came suddenly and violently over himself, every muscle freezing as he arched and shook.

 

Alistair managed only a few more faltering thrusts before he suddenly gripped Cullen’s thigh hard enough to break the skin with his nails. He came silently as he pressed a kiss to Cullen’s knee, before collapsing on top of him, gasping for breath.

 

For a moment neither of them moved, sweaty and panting. Then Alistair carefully pulled out, drawing a soft whine from Cullen. The King moved straight to the headboard, untying Cullen’s wrists quickly and carefully, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of each one. They were rubbed and raw, but Cullen didn’t mind. He wanted to remember this for as long as possible.

 

Alistair had moved back to his dresser, pouring water into a basin and scrubbing himself. Cullen watched, unable to do much else in his blessed-out state, Alistair then approached him with a wet cloth, letting the man carefully wash the sweat and come from his body. Once Alistair was done, Cullen sighed a little.

 

“Do you need me to leave your Majesty?” He asked, not wanting to overstay his welcome, or cause his King any embarrassment should any servants walk in.

 

Alistair frowned. “No. I’d like you to stay... if you can. If you want to.”

 

Cullen smiled, and nodded. He certainly didn’t want to attempt moving again until the morning, and he happily rolled under the covers with Alistair. The man curled up behind him, hands idly stroking at his skin. “So... when’s the next diplomatic meeting we’ll both be at?” He asked, casually, but Cullen could hear the smirk in his voice. He chuckled softly.

 

“I’ll get on it as soon as I’m back at Skyhold, your Majesty.”

 

“Good.” Alistair yawned into Cullen’s shoulder. “Make sure you do Commander.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at: http://stripeydani.tumblr.com/


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